Ponytail
by Stefanatic
Summary: Iruka is sick of being treated like a girl by his own classmates over and over again. Especially Mizuki likes seeing him suffer and does not miss a chance to bother the poor boy. That is until a mysterious, unknown shinobi goes to Irukas rescue.


_**Hello, guys.**_

_**My Gosh, this is my very first fanfiction I have written in english. I can hardly believe it myself, really. So Since I'm obviously not a native speaker there happen to be grammar and spelling every now and then even though I try my best to delete any mistakes by proof-reading it myself. **_

**_Actually, this story is based on a german fanfiction I have written some months ago, back in the summer and which I decided to translate into english. Writing in english or just translating is - at least for me - a whole different story, either way. It's like my brain is kind of blocked when I translate from german into english. Most likely I _****_maybe _****_concentrate a little bit too much on what I have written in german... (Which isn't much surprising since I'm German.) _**

_**So I'm apolozing beforehand if the story sucks too badly.**_

_**PS: No, I don't see Iruka as a girlish-looking boy, normally.**_

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><p>Long, silky hair, soft, tanned skin, feminine facial features and a slim, delicate body shape. Qualities which load of woman would give anything for. Still, they seemed highly inappropriate whereas Iruka was a young boy in the age of eleven who, not only tended to be mistaken for a female being more often than not but also suffered from the lack of self-confidence that slowly consumed his little soul. Truth be told, he hated himself and especially his weak body that didn't appear to be practicable for the job as a shinobi.<p>

The Umino-kid loathed his deep brown hair that easily reached down to his shoulder, curling lightly at its edges. Paired up with his nearly unmanly face he nothing but looked like a god-damn girl. Only the huge scar, running over the back of his nose and cheeks, kind of destroyed his appearance that most of the people saw as a stupid manner of perfection. Iruka, however, never saw himself as being perfect. If anything he was imperfection in person.

The idea of cutting his hair had been crossing his mind ever since. He longed for a short hairstyle like the other boys in school had – neatly sliced and, above all, manly. That was until his mother had interfered in Irukas plan which she found was poorly showered with thoughts. There is nothing you have to change, she had said softly with a hint of persistence that left no room for contradiction though. As much as Iruka had not wanted to believe her words the boy forced himself to do as his mother wished and decided, even if unwillingly and heavy-hearted, not to cut his mane. Still that didn't mean Iruka stopped trying to get rid of his reputation as an 'androgynous' boy. From this day on he had started to pull his brown, long hair up in a high ponytail; every strand bound and fixed by a single hair tie.

Thus he at least attempted to get the scorn and derision he daily received out of the way as well as his fellow students whom he now wanted to demonstrate that the Iruka they knew – girlish-looking and all feminine - didn't exist anymore. Iruka wanted to prove that he was no less of a boy than the others were but much to the Uminos displeasure his commitment didn't bring the efforts he had hoped for in the beginning at all.

No, the teasing got even worse and more unbearable with each passing day. Especially the school breaks in which he had to put up with countless of stupid jokes made it very clear to him: He and his way of looking didn't go down particularly well.

Many girls were jealous and the guys? Oooh, the guys, they loved treating him like some sort of victim they could pick on whenever they felt like it. As if that wasn't enough already there was, of course, one who took this little game to a whole new level. One to whom Iruka was an absolute thorn in his flesh even though Iruka hadn't done anything to upset the other boy – as far as he remembered.

„Hey, Iruka! Nice haircut! "

The statement was followed by spiteful laughs that send jolts of anger through Irukas veins.

How tired he was of being humiliated, yet the worst part of it all was the fact that everyone around enjoyed watching him getting emotionally hurt over and over again because they knew what Iruka also knew oh too well: He was dead in the water.

„Do you have an idea what to wear at the summer party this year, Iruka-chan?"

Fake kindness rotated through the spoken words that hung thick in the warm summer air.

Here he was, Mizuki Touji, by far the most disgusting bastard at school who labeled himself as the leader of the group that tormented Iruka mercilessly. He grinned like a Cheshire cat from ear to ear, laughing smugly. Iruka nothing but wanted to beat him senseless.

The Umino frowned as he noticed the boys getting even close, forming a circle around him like a wall made of bodies which intended to cut off whatever escape route possible was left to him.

It seemed as if the whole academy, except the staff of course, was on hand and no one, not even one of Irukas class comrades had the slightest interest in helping him. Instead, their eyes laid on the spectacle in front of them, full of curiosity and fascination.

Iruka, on the other hand, felt his heart bumping against the inside of his chest in an unsteady rhythm as loneliness and helplessness washed over him like an ocean wave.

He felt uncomfortable with everybody staring at him; knowing, they most likely only saw what they wanted to: A small, wimpy, maidenly guy you could have a go at as often as pleased and who would never dare to defend himself in return.

The soft murmurs grew louder until they composed an unpleasant sound that rang in Irukas ears, making him shudder heavily.

"Oh, what is wrong, Ruka-chan? You look frightened!"

A slight snort send the wings of his nose fluttering, as the brunet looked straight into the of malicious joy filled eyes of Mizuki who stood merely meters afar.

At least in Irukas opinion the grey-haired boy have had this psychopathic touch as long as he could remember and they have known each other for quite a while now. But no matter how many years Mizuki and Iruka have spent in the kinder garden as well in school they had loathed one another ever since. To be honest, it was aversion on first sight that only grew bigger through all the time, never losing the pure hatred that dominated and kept the somewhat sick and disturbing connection between them alive.

"Frightened? You're seeing things or what? Why the hell should I be afraid of you! Don't make me laugh…!"

Where he took the boldness from to step up against Mizuki, Iruka didn't know.

One could go that far to say the brunet somewhat second-guessed and doubt himself for his action which he tried to whitewash with a fake-bored smile. If only he knew how to play this game in the right way the boy by any chance had the possibility to avoid as much physical and mental damage as possible. Yeah, this time the gray-haired teen wouldn't fuck with him and just get away with it that easily.

And in a split of second the brunet felt superior to the others even though the feeling didn't last long.

"You're asking why you should be afraid of me?"

Irukas blood froze immediately as the low, yet amused voice rang in his ears. A murmur went through the crowd.

All of a sudden, the brunet felt his back colliding with the dirty ground, a painful gasp tore from his gorge. For a brief moment he held his eyes shut, taking a deep breath and feeling how the oxygen filled his lungs, before the boy lifted his lids slowly, almost anxiously for what was to come.

Iruka swallowed hard whereby his throat almost made contact with the blade of a kunai which the elder pressed against the smooth, delicate neck of the now helpless boy beneath him. Where the hell did he get that throwing knife from! Nobody of the students not even Iruka himself possessed one, for gods' sake! Simultaneously, the frightened brunet couldn't form a proper thought at all. His eyes were fixed on the face above him which shot him a creepy smile in return. Thick droplets of sweat started to form on his forehead before they ran down both his temples, dripping down in the sand where the liquid mingled with the dusty subsurface into a dark-brown mixture.

„You know, Iruka-chan, if only you had a little bit more of a girl than just your face and your body I'd definitely take you."

A cold shiver ran down his back as the hot words circled around Irukas thoughts and suddenly, he had the sinking feeling that this phrase hadn't been a joke but absolute seriousness because neither scorn nor derision had determined his voice. That, however, didn't comfort his tensed nerves one bit.

Truth be told, Iruka was quite convinced Mizuki was about to kill him here and now as the pressure of the kunai against his flesh increased more and more. _The time has come_, he thought in horror. _He is going to go fully insane!_

Much too his surprise, Mizuki eliminated the knife only seconds later and removed himself from on top of Iruka whose body now started to ache all over. He bet his limbs were bruised badly; it probably would take weeks to heal properly but that didn't bother him right in that moment. Much more he felt relieved that the uncomfortable weight and especially the weapon against his throat had been vanished completely.

Iruka rose from the ground, his legs still shaking like mad. Slowly and with trembling fingers, he stroke off the dirt on his clothes, consisting of a white t-shirt and black pants which reached unto both his knees. The fabric was cluttered with bright dust spots all over.

Mizuki turned around, his back now facing Iruka, and he walked over to his friends who wore a perplexed look. Most likely they could hardly believe their own eyes what kind of show the boy had been given.

„Geez, Mizuki! You are so cool!", a boy with bright red hair laughed loudly and admiringly patted Mizuki on the shoulder. Iruka, on the other hand, could nothing but give a silent grumble.

His classmates hadn't spared just one thought about stepping in, helping him.

What if Mizuki had slit his throat instead of letting go? Probably they would have enjoyed it, Iruka thought bitterly, as he took his course back into the school building. He at least wanted some time to recover from the previous incident before the next lesson period would start.

"Hey, you are about to leave already, Iruka?"

Mizukis voice was filled with amusement, followed by rumbling laughter. Irukas footsteps died down.

"Whatever. We're going to see us at the party, right?"

Another spiteful laughter erupted from his throat that now sent Iruka running as fast as he could. He didn't dare to look back. He just wanted to get away. He had to. Away from this psychopath who couldn't and wouldn't leave him alone, no matter how badly the brunet tried to not cross Mizukis path. Desperately, he cut his way through the crowd of students who had hoarded around him earlier. Instead of flinching, they continued staring at him stupidly, like they had been before.

Iruka was absolutely certain:

He would definitely not go to this bloody party tonight. Oh, not for the life of him!

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><p><em><strong>Did it suck or was it, uhm, passable?<strong>_

_**Let me know. Whatever sort of reviews/comments are welcome! **_


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